I’d like to say I didn’t get through the aftermath of my assaults alone, no survivor should have to. I didn’t. I had my mom, my friends, my poetry, resources aplenty online that showed me others and their stories. Then, however, there is the truth. The truth isn’t always pretty. The truth often isn’t fun. My truths, the hard ones, they are just that: hard. Isolating. Not something people really want to deal with. When I came out about my rape, it was such an eye-opening experience. I saw people for their genuine selves--pictures faded from black and white and their true colors shown through on the page. Below is a list of exact quotes my friends said to me.

“There’s nothing you can do but get over it.”

“I mean, if you told me you were raped I would have broken up with you, too.”

“Why are you telling people?”

“I’m mad at you for not telling me.”

“You just have to let it go.”

“How was it rape if you liked him?”

“Oh my god. I made out with him, what if he had done that to me?”

“You have to understand that it makes people uncomfortable.”

“I don’t think it’s so much they think you’re lying its just kind of hard to believe, you know?”

“You weren’t drunk though, right?”

“You’re being such a bitch about this.”

“I can’t do anything unless you file a report.”

“Well, I’ve heard good and bad things about the guy.”

It’s because of the things said above that the second part of this series goes out to the other 75 percent of the population: being an ally and a friend to a survivor.

See, survivors don’t need your apologies. Saying I’m sorry is such a natural instinct but so unnecessary. You have not hurt me. You did not invade my privacy, my mortality. Your sympathies, maybe. Advice, perhaps. Love, definitely. Pity, don’t even dare. I don’t need someone to feel bad for me; I also don’t need a one-time friend. A good ol’ one and done wish of condolences. I found when I confided in people or they had found out most of their responses were a one-time thing. Rape is often (definitely NOT ALWAYS) a one-time thing. However, the pain, the suffering, the shame, the trauma and of course the memories do not only last for the time of the assault. It is ever-lasting. It does not go away, it simply gets better- but not immediately, not soon, not for awhile, not even for a long while.

What I’m about to say sounds hard to believe, overdramatic, exaggerated. But it’s the reality and I’m sure many sexual assault survivors have had a very similar experience. Not a single one of my friends reached out to me later and asked how I was. How I was handling things. If it was easier to wake up in the morning, to shower, to walk on campus in the dark. I had a dear friend tell me recently, “Maybe we just forget that you’re going through things because you’re so strong about everything.” Her intentions were well-meaning and she followed up by saying it wasn’t an excuse for not being a good friend but that was hard for me to hear. Such a mixed statement. It was if she was saying, “Congratulations, we all admire you for being strong BUT because you are you have to handle things on your own, sorry ‘bout it.”

Being strong wasn’t an option. You buckle up, handle your s**t and develop a strength or you break, you become a victim, a statistic, a member of society that’s been kicked aside and fed to the dogs. I have a family, friends, a cause that needs me--so the latter wasn’t an option. While being strong is a necessity, it also isn’t a cure. Just because I can stomach the painful events that have made such big impacts on my life doesn’t mean I’m okay, I mean truly okay. Being able to bear what happened and wake up each morning doesn’t make the pain go away, doesn’t mean I’m not still suffering, and it most certainly doesn’t mean I’m no longer “going through anything.”

The hardest thing about living my life as a survivor is not being able to talk to my closest friends about it. I can confide in the Internet, a webcam, random friends I meet who have gone through something similar or are just easy to talk to. The main reason for this was because I could feel the way the energy would change around me when it gets brought up in conversation. The body language, lack of eye contact, decrease in volume and general conversation. People are uncomfortable talking about rape and often have that little buzz of a bee in their ear asking "Are we 100% sure she's telling the truth?" This is something that really gets to me. If I was in another world in which I could just snap and then pretend it never happened, I would go full "Real Housewives." Pull a whole….I’m sorry…am Imaking you uncomfortable? You know what’s uncomfortable? It’s pretty uncomfortable being pinned down and having your mouth cupped over. It’s uncomfortable when you see your perpetrator walk by you on the sidewalk. It’s uncomfortable to have to tell someone you can’t have sex with them because somedays it’s just too hard. It’s uncomfortable to have to tell the cops, your therapist, your mom, your baby sister how someone touched you in places you should never discuss with your family and strangers. It’s uncomfortable to live in this skin. So, forgive me, please, for making you uncomfortable with my trauma. How dare I be honest and speak out and expect you to believe me…as if this isn’t something that happens to 25 percent of the population. Full New Jersey table flip and all.

But I’ve never been the confrontational type and it’s a little absurd for me to take out all the anger I have on people who just aren’t aware enough about the situation.

So, let's get aware! Here’s some tips when it comes to “dealing with” a survivor:

1. Treat them like a human being.

They aren’t a freed rat from the shampoo animal testing experiment facility. They aren’t classified as a new species because of what they’ve been through. Being dehumanized by anyone who thinks it’s okay to do that to someone is hard enough, the last thing they need is for you to continue to step on their humanity.

2. Be their champion when they can’t be.

Know they will always put on a brave face but no matter how many times they may say they are fine, they aren’t always going to be. They can’t do this alone and yes, a therapist will always know what to say better than you will, but they need your crummy advice too sometimes.

3. Defend your friend.

People talk. And unfortunately the truth is, some people really do lie about truly awful things happening to them. The difference between the people who really are sexually assaulted to the number that lie about it are as incomparable as the amount of Trump 2016 voters who will agree with everything I’ve wrote in this article. When someone questions what happened to a survivor it is your job, as a bystander and a friend, to say something. No one could defend them when they were being attacked, make it your job to do what you can now.

4. Do not pretend you know their pain.

It’s important to know fear does not equal experience. I have many friends, who know what I’ve gone through, who tell me their biggest fears are being raped. Many freak out and say that they can’t handle watching scary movies with rape scenes and that "I don't understand." In my head all I can think is: I’m sorry you realize I LIVED that horror movie, that I felt that fear firsthand, right? Yeah, it is awful. So inconceivably awful. It is something I would never wish on my worst enemy. But for anyone to equate their fourth grade nightmare after watching "Last House On the Left" fear with mine is just iniquitous.

5. Listen.

When you don’t know what to say just tell them you love them and you believe them. Let them speak. Let them rant. They need it more thank you think. They need it to survive.

Help them on their path to surviving.

Special thanks to the people who have been there for me no matter what and let me know throughout this entire process that they love me and believe me. You are my anchors.